


Defying Gravity

by orphan_account



Series: True Alpha [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Danny and Stiles are cousins, Erica and Boyd came back after Gerard, Everyone Lives/No One Dies, M/M, Magic Stiles, Nice Peter, Post Season 2, Scott helps with them, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Sniper Danny, Stiles is a genius little shit, Tolkien References, and also vampire hunters, mentions of child rape, mentions of emotional manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just supposed to be a pack meeting to see if anyone had noticed something out of the ordinary recently. They hadn’t caught up with each other yet, and needed to stay informed. Derek was then supposed to start a more practical training session, on Stiles’s request after what he preferred to call the Gerard Incident happened, for all pack members including the humans.</p>
<p>It just wasn’t supposed to get this bad.</p>
<p>Wasn’t supposed to happen at all, really; the bastard was across the damn country, last he checked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defying Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> So, if people could please take this as an apology for not updating Carnival of Rust in a couple weeks/nearly a month... yeah, I'm kinda stuck on what to do with the next chapter of that.
> 
> Anyways.
> 
> In this, Stiles’s mom was a Tolkien nut and named him after Gandalf’s sword in the Hobbit, Glamdring. Also, Stiles is a BAMF, genius, Sherlock Holmes-channeling, emotionally constipated mage; I will not accept anything otherwise. And Danny is Stiles’s cousin; their mom’s were sisters.
> 
> There is a brief section of Sheriff Stilinski’s POV at the beginning to show parallel actions during the relative same period of time. I wanted to add more, but there was no way I was going to write what I wanted to put there.
> 
> Anything regarding Derek that Stiles may point out will be explained in the sequel. In fact, a lot of things may-or-may-not be explained in the sequel. Depends on what Stiles is saying this week.
> 
> I have no idea what happened cannon S2 finale, having not reached that part in the series yet. All I know is from what I have read, and since the fandom is, well... as accurate as possible, even in AUs, I’ll take my chances. Just... point out things that aren’t right? Please?

**June 13, 2011, 08:30 PM**

Jonathan Stilinski had never considered that he might have had a self-sacrifice complex before. But after losing Stiles to this creature once seven years ago, he needed to make sure that it never happened again.

Even if it meant giving himself up to the very same creature in the process.

It has started a couple nights previous. He had received a text, on his personal cell, from a blocked number, stating that _he_ was back in town and that if Jon wanted Stiles to stay away then he should reply and wait for instructions. While Jon normally would have gone to Danny and get his nephew trace the text, without the number it was near impossible, and it wouldn’t have kept Stiles away from that man in the end. So, Jon did the stupid self-sacrificing thing and sent a text back to the person. It had taken a couple days, but earlier that afternoon he got those instructions: _Tonight at nine, warehouse district. Wait outside your cruiser, sidearm inside the cage._

He had left the house as per usual after dinner, dressed in his uniform and his sidearm in his holster. Stiles was waving from the open front door as he stepped into the cruiser, yelling something about having something healthy if he needed a midnight snack. Jon smiled at that, giving a small wave before driving off. That smile disappeared the minute he had gotten onto the main road a few minutes earlier.

Jon breathed deeply as he turned towards the fairly abandoned section of town. Eight-thirty. That gave him half an hour to stew over the decision he made.

And boy, did he stew.

He had some nagging hope that Stiles somehow knew about this, and would put an end to the deal before it even occurred. He knew about his and Danny’s vampire hunting excursions, knew that his son and nephew could, in fact, stop this if they knew. Logic poked its head up and struck the thought down about as quickly as it popped up; Jon had kept this hidden very well from his son, who could practically see the lies when he said one without realizing that Jon could do the same right back. Stiles had to learn how to lie through his teeth from one of his parents, and it sure as hell was not Claudia, who hadn’t been able to lie her way out of a wet paper bag when she was around. He knew all the tricks that Stiles used to hide the lies, because they were his as well.

Jon slid to a stop in front of one of the abandoned warehouses, sighing as he parked. He sat there for a minute, staring blindly at the road. There was no backing out, he knew that. Knowledge, however, never really stopped the unrealistic side of him that prayed, searched, and prodded for a loophole, a way to wiggle out of this that would not wind up with Stiles being dragged back to _him_. He shook his head. Those thoughts had been swirling around his brain for the past two days; if he had made no headway earlier, then he wouldn’t make any now.

He flicked the engine off and slid out from the cruiser. It took mere seconds for the back door to be opened and his sidearm safely placed on the seat. He slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, burrowing his nose into his jacket. The temperature wasn’t as cold as it had been, but the wind still held a nip to it despite the change of seasons. If it also meant that he could take a large whiff of Stiles’s scent that still lingered from when Jon had found him after the lacrosse game, well, no one was there to call him out on that. With a sigh, he let his eyes close and his mind drift.

A door opening in front of him brought Jon out of what must have been a light doze. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand, staring at the black sedan and noting the illegal tint to all the windows habitually. His eyes drifted to where a tall and elegantly lanky man stepped out of the back seat, what little revealed pale skin he had practically reflecting the fading sunlight. A twisted smile was on the man’s lips as he stepped forwards. “Jonathan, I’m glad you actually showed up,” he said in a smooth tenor that caused shivers down Jon’s spine. “Seems you are a man of your word, eh?”

He sighed. “Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled, pushing off from the cruiser and striding over to the man. Jon kept his eyes focused on the tarmac, not wanting to meet the other’s eyes. He started as a hand cupped his jaw, tilting his head up. _God, this guy’s tall_ , was the only thing he could think as he was forced to meet glowing red eyes. And he was, at least a head taller than Jon and just slightly wider. He swallowed against the sick feeling in his stomach. _This man did those unspeakable things to my ten-year-old son._

The man’s smile never left his face. “Impatient, are we?” he asked, voice teasing. “I’d almost say that you wouldn’t mind if I just bound you without releasing Glamdring, Jonathan.”

Jon felt his eyes widen. “No, no I’ll do anything, anything you want, just, just leave Stiles out of this, that was the deal—“ He was shushed, a second hand coming up to cup his jaw.

Those red eyes looked down at him, calculating. “You are correct on that, Jonathan; a deal is a deal, is it not?” he mumbled, letting those inhuman eyes trail from Jon’s blues down to his lips. Jon could barely hold back a shudder when they followed the line of his neck, feeling a sudden urge to tilt his head back further. “Get in the car, Jonathan,” the vampire whispered, lips curving over the words sensually.

It was like he was no longer in control of his actions, like he was watching everything from a distance. Jon mechanically ducked into the sedan, looking on hazily as the other walked to his cruiser and with a gloved hand -why didn’t he realize that they were gloved in the first place? It was his job to notice those things- opened the driver’s side door. _Staging the scene._ He watched, transfixed, as the vampire came back and joined him in the backseat, closing the door once inside.

He may have missed the gesture that the vampire made to the driver -he remembered seeing his arm rise and fall for a second- but the next thing that Jon knew for certain he was straddling the vampire’s lap, letting him stroke still-gloved fingers along his jaw and down his neck. The wandering hands found his hips as Jon’s head was nudged towards the right.

The sharp pinpricks went nearly unnoticed by his hazy mind, but the sudden lance of pain shooting down his back did not. Jon stiffened, keening in the back of his throat as those hands stroked his flanks, one rising to hold his head in place. He vaguely registered feeling more than one set of hands on him, fingers running through his hair, a hand latched on the back of his neck tightly, one hand running reassuringly up and down his spine, and the last pair tightening on his shoulders.

He let his eyes fall closed. _Stiles..._ he thought, realizing whom those other hands had to be touching. _I’m sorry. This was the only way I knew how to protect you..._

A beat passed, and then he heard it: ‘ _Dad..._ ’

His breath hitched, mirroring the sob he let out through the connection the vampire had forged to chain Jon to him in Stiles’s place. The connection snapped, and Jon felt himself fall against the vampire, who had released his neck and was just stroking his back. His fingers curled into the deep red button down tightly, and he let that ground him even as he slowly slipped unconscious.

\- - -

 

**08:58 PM**

It was just supposed to be a pack meeting to see if anyone had noticed something out of the ordinary recently. They hadn’t caught up with each other yet, and needed to stay informed. Derek was then supposed to start a more practical training session, on Stiles’s request after what he preferred to call the Gerard Incident happened, for all pack members including the humans.

What with summer vacation having come about a week prior, the betas would have been all clumped together for scenting and calming down their wolves. Erica and Boyd were going to be especially clingy to everyone, after what happened. Stiles was going to pretend that all of the bruises and minor fractures from Gerard were still hurting him, and not already gone like many of his wounds he had gained from the past year; it was nothing like he had already gone through, and he had been gaining strength in his magic/spark since all this started. Scott was supposed to stick close to him, his friend’s way of apologizing for the past six months, and Peter was supposed to badger him into a sass-filled argument that was really just bickering back and forth like an old married couple. Derek wasn’t supposed to be worried about anything, especially when it came to the stupid human who couldn’t leave well enough alone. No, the Alpha was just supposed to scowl away in his corner and watch his pack interact with each other, not letting anyone get close like he had something major to hide.

It just wasn’t supposed to get this bad.

Wasn’t supposed to happen at all, really; the bastard was across the damn country, last he checked.

Stiles cursed under his breath as he stumbled closer to the old Hale house, a hand latched tightly on the nape of his neck. The dull throbbing there spiked, spreading down his back and around his ribs. He needed Scott -‘ _despite how much of an ass he’s been the past few months,_ ’- needed him to quell some of this pain. Biting his tongue, Stiles pushed on, using the trees as leverage to get closer to the burnt out husk. Why Derek kept using it as a meeting place, he would never understand. The place was haunted with too many bad memories; it was a poison to the pack. Maybe that was why Derek acted the way he did during the meetings; the location reminded him of what he had lost. Then again, it was better than the old train station had been. A little.

Another spike of pain brought him from his thoughts and to his knees, a loud groan being punched out of his lungs. At least he was close enough to the house that he could be heard.

Scott came running out of the door, partially shifted in panic. “Stiles!” his best friend yelled, sliding to a stop beside him. “What happened?”

He glanced up at Scott, panting and too in pain to be angry that his friend had been the only one to come running for him. Well, Peter wasn’t all that far behind, but the creeper-wolf was staying a good distance from them. And some of the pack had clumped together at the door, but they weren’t his concern right then. “Scott, it’s, he’s back, Madison’s back,” Stiles managed to get out. He could only watch as his friend’s golden eyes widened, werewolf features sliding away despite the potential increase in heartbeat. If he had enough attention to spare, he would actually be able to see the increase from Scott’s jugular; had learned he could do that a long time ago.

“Shit,” he murmured, winding an arm around Stiles’s shoulders. “Come on, up you go. Let’s get you inside.” Stiles let him be manhandled into a standing position, swaying once there and leaning heavily against Scott. “God I forgot how heavy you are,” he groaned.

“Shut up, werewolf,” Stiles huffed out.

With Scott’s help and Peter’s distanced guidance, Stiles managed to get up the steps and onto the couch without any troubles. He flopped down on the recently vacated seat -Erica had scooted over into Boyd’s lap when he came hobbling in- and groaned again, his other hand clutching his right side. His eyes rolled back, and his spine arched with the pain. Scott’s hand wrapped itself around the back of his neck, dulling the pain slightly but not enough to stop the litany of mewling moans falling from his lips. “Jackson, call Danny and get him over here now. He’s going to need a family member, and the Sheriff’s on duty,” he heard Scott say as if his ears were full of cotton.

Jackson sounded confused, from what Stiles could hear. “Family member? Stiles and Danny aren’t—“

Another, harsher bite of pain hit, causing his already arched spine to jerk further and a cry to sharply fall from his lips. “Scott,” he whimpered. The younger boy shushed him, fingers running against his forehead.

“Just get him, Jacks,” he barked, more than likely getting glares from everyone but ignoring them for Stiles’s sake. “Stiles, calm down, it’ll be okay, just stay with me now,” Scott said, heaving Stiles forwards until their foreheads touched. Stiles stared into his chocolates blearily as Scott continued. “Just stay with me until Danny get’s here, yeah? Come on, Stiles, you’re scaring me here. Stick with me.

“’m here, mostly. Scott, this, this is dif’rent, it isn’t like before,” he slurred out between mewls.

The hand at the back of his neck tightened at that, before Stiles was picked up and maneuvered so he was sitting in someone’s lap, his head pressed against their neck. Instinctively, he burrowed closer, fingers curling into a soft shirt. Coarse stubble brushed against his sensitive skin as Scott’s hand was removed and another took its place.

Derek. He was sitting in Derek Freaking Hale’s lap.

If only it was in better circumstances. He might have enjoyed it otherwise.

Speaking of circumstances, the pain quickly eclipsed all other feeling, until he was nothing more than a writhing, mewling mass of throbbing hurt. Dimly, he heard Scott tell Derek and Peter, who had threaded fingers into Stiles’s hair, to not drain his pain; that it would be too much even for the both of them, and hearing his friend say it brought a whimper from Stiles, because it was the truth. Scott could barely handle draining a small amount of this pain as it was, and that was when it was the normal stuff. This, he didn’t know what this was, and that scared him.

Sounds of growling and someone pushing their way into the house filtered through the cotton in his ears. A sure hand ran up his spine under his shirt, and Stiles could not help but relax and moan as the feeling hit him. God, he had nearly forgotten how comforting his cousin’s touch was... “It’ll be all right, Stiles, we’re here, just stay with us,” he heard Danny say. From the slight pricks of pain on his neck, he could hazard a guess that Derek didn’t like him touching Stiles for whatever reason. Non-pack member touching the technically-pack human or something along those lines. Wolf instincts.

Whatever.

He pinched the werewolf for that, and again for the growl that came after.

Phantom fingers trailed along his jaw and neckline, and he felt the familiar-yet-distant pinpricks of a vampire bite on the left side of his neck. He turned rigid, eyes unfocused as they flew open. That was impossible, there weren’t any vampires close by to bite him. What was going on? The phantom touches continued, stroking down his flanks and holding the back of his head. He couldn’t tell what was actually happening to him and what wasn’t, the feel of hands on him blending together. And then a voice whispered into his mind:

_Stiles... I’m sorry. This is the only way I know how to protect you..._

‘ _Dad..._ ’ Stiles thought back, because it sounded just like him. Mirrored choked sobs came from both himself and the voice inside his head.

He keened as something within him snapped, the phantom touches leaving as it did. He curled into a tighter ball, tightening his hold on Derek’s shirt as he did. His eyes squeezed shut, fighting against the tears that pricked at the corners of them. Four pairs of hands calmed him down, their voices mixing together as he blacked out from the overload.

\- - -

 

**June 14, 2011, 07:00 AM**

Stiles burrowed deep into the warmth surrounding him, fighting against the pull of consciousness. His eyebrows furrowed when someone poked him in the side, trying to be gentle but it still hurt. He shifted away, only to yelp when that someone gave a sharp jab to the same side. ‘ _Ow!_ ’ “All right, all right, I’m up!” he squeaked out, head popping out of the cocoon that had been created around him. He glared at the offender -Derek, of course, the ass- as he chuckled. “I’ll get you back for that, Sourwolf,” he grumbled, dragging him out from the warmth. ‘ _Damn. Can’t freaking workout with him here. Not like I feel as if I could right now._

Derek lifted an eyebrow at that. Stiles just groaned as he stood, noting that the Alpha was crouched on the floor and did not appear to be moving. When he finally reached his dresser, Derek spoke up. “I postponed the meeting for another week. What exactly happened last night?”

Stiles leaned against his dresser and sighed. He figured that it would come to this. He turned to face the man he had a major crush on, but didn’t lift his eyes from the floor. “Repercussions from being bit by a vampire when I was ten and spending three years under his control. No, I’m not a vamp myself; he didn’t turn me.” Stiles shrugged. “More like just bound me to him. Been fighting him for the past four years, with help from Dad, Scott, and Danny; don’t ask about Danny, trust me it’ll be easier for you to just not right now. Might find out about him later. Anyways, the control he had over me, the pull he could cause... It was easier to fight when he was farther away. Like, across the country. Then the bastard decided to come back in town to try and drag me back under control.”

A hand gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head so he was forced to look into Derek’s eyes. “Stiles, calm down,” he whispered, just holding him there. He didn’t even notice that he was anxious. Then again, werewolf senses. Could probably smell it in the air. His eyes flicked down to Derek’s chest, following the rise and fall as he synchronized breathing with the older man. This continued until Derek let go of Stiles’s chin, deeming him calm enough. “Last night, what was that?”

Stiles glanced up into Derek’s kaleidoscope-green eyes. “That was, when I originally left the house, the vamp that bit me attempting to draw me to him. As you could tell, I managed to fight against that call long enough to get to your house. Once I got close, though, the feeling changed, becoming more of a burning throb, focused around where he had first bit me.” He patted the area, wincing when he did. It felt like he has been burned, but that was impossible, really.

Wasn’t it?

“What the...?” He maneuvered out from between Derek and the dresser, stumbling across the hall to the bathroom as his vision swam. Once he got in front of the sink, he tugged the collar of his tee shirt -and he was slightly perturbed when he noticed that it was not what he had left for Derek’s in last night- down to inspect the nape of his neck.

Black, intricate ember-like markings ringed the area of the original bite wound’s scar, and from how it looked on the other side of his neck -where a line of black curved halfway up his jugular and two more lines stretched the opposite direction from the back of his neck- they seemed to continue down his back and chest.

How Derek didn’t even notice them, he would have to figure out later. Like, much later.

Stiles shucked off his shirt then, just to examine what exactly had formed on his skin because he was very, one hundred percent certain he hadn’t gotten a tattoo recently. His jaw dropped as he looked at what appeared to be a tribal wing curling from under his right arm and across his chest, the furthest tip to the left being above his nipple; there was also a tribal crest of some form of bird on his right bicep. He turned to look at his back, which held a mass of intricate markings in the shape of another bird, where the wing on his chest came from. Two of the very long tail feathers dipped below his pants line, making him flush slightly at the thought of _where_ , exactly, those marks ended.

“Stiles?”

He looked back towards Derek, who was standing in the doorway to the bathroom just staring wide-eyed. ‘ _Well, at least I’m not the only one seeing this_ ,’ he thought, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’m gonna need to check my notes,” he said, feeling woozy all of a sudden.

Derek moved to his side as he swayed, helping him stumble back to his room and to his desk. He hazily thought of how odd it was for Derek to help him like that; normally the Sourwolf would have just let him stumble back to his room.

Stiles ignored Derek once he was sitting, reaching for a box he had kept hidden away under the desk that held all his notes on the supernatural goings-on in town. It was the only thing that his dad didn’t search through, including his computer, having been lead to believe it only held school notes from his online classes -yeah, try taking college online classes for a criminal psychology degree, high school courses, and having to research and live on a werewolf’s sleep schedule. It wasn’t fun. The Adderall helped, most nights. Stiles tore open the box, sifting through the files of creatures they have faced, and potential creatures that they could face in the future. He selected the second thickest file, knowing exactly what supernatural being it was without having to look at the label.

He placed the box on the floor, and the file on his desk. He barely paid attention when he heard Derek settle down on his bed, intent on figuring this out. There had been something in his notes about when a vampire bit someone who existed in the supernatural plane, even with something as subtle and doubted about as magic. ‘ _Or a spark_ ,’ he thought grumpily, turning the pages until he found what he was looking for. Amber eyes scanned the inked white page, reabsorbing the information he had paid good money to the vampire hunters for.

_...It is rare for a vampire to release one they have bound to them willingly. In normal circumstances, the bonded is released through the death of the vampire. However, there have been reported cases in which the bonded, whether they are supernatural or not, has been released through a transfer of the metaphorical shackles. The receiver of the shackles is required to be either a very close friend or a blood relative... It is even more rare for a vampire to bite and bind someone who is part of the supernatural community, peripherally or otherwise... In the case of the binds being broken or transferred, the supernatural being in question receives the mark of a phoenix on their body, symbolic of a rebirthing of sorts. The size and number of marks is the literal representation for the control the vampire had over them. If the previously bonded had magical capabilities, then they will be increased to the strength of what had been over them. _

Stiles blinked at that. ‘ _Well then. That explains that._ ’ He then blinked again, thinking back on what he remembered of the night before. It really was a haze after he got into the Hale house, but he did recall what he believed was the transfer of control in some detail.

Especially the voice in his head...

He turned to face Derek, who had a partially concerned scowl on his features. “Where’s my dad?” he asked, forgoing telling him what he had just read in favor of making sure his family was safe. ‘ _Only blood relatives and close friends. Scott had been there at the pack meeting, and Danny had gotten there during the fit on the couch, which means..._ ’

Derek’s look shifted to an apprehensive one. He inhaled before stating softly, “We don’t know.”

Ice flowed through his veins even as his skin heated. Stiles forced deep, even breathes through his lungs in order to keep the increase of his spark in check. Oh, he was going to need to talk with Deaton about actual fucking lessons on controlling this later; it was more than a spark after last night. He rigidly tilted his head, staring at Derek. “What?” he asked in a quiet, monotone voice.

Derek’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “He never showed up for his shift last night. The police found his cruiser abandoned in the warehouse district,” he said, voice for once wary.

‘ _He should be fucking wary of me right now._ ’ Stiles growled low and guttural in his throat, turning towards his desk and pressing his forehead into his hand. ‘ _I’m about to fucking explode._ ’

Tensions broke as someone knocked on the doorframe. Stiles glanced up and sighed when he saw it was Danny leaning there, looking rather concerned. “Everything alright?” his cousin asked, glancing between Stiles and Derek.

He shook his head, forcing himself into a standing position. “No, not really,” he said, walking stiffly over to his dresser again. “I know who has dad, though. And I’m not happy.” He slammed open a drawer, noticing out of the corner of his eye how Derek flinched slightly at the sound. Stiles filed the reaction away for later examination; it hadn’t been the first time that reaction had happened. Reaching out to snatch the first shirt in the drawer, Stiles kept on forcing those deep breaths in case it was a reaction to his anger. He locked eyes with Danny. “Get your sniper rifle from the attic, and Scott’s bag of gear while you’re at it. We’ve got ourselves a vampire to hunt,” he said before shoving the shirt over his head.

Danny’s features hardened. “Madison,” he growled out, waiting for Stiles’s nod before stalking to the attic.

Stiles sighed, letting his shoulders slump before shooing Derek out of his room so he could change. This was just not his day. Summer was going to be torture if this pattern kept up...

\- - -

 

**07:25 AM**

“Allison, I need you to get your dad here for me, please,” Stiles said as he passed into the kitchen, interrupting the conversations going on. The Huntress in question blinked several times before taking a close look at him as he lifted his black duffle over the kitchen counter. He figured that it was a sight she’d never seen on him before: tight, all black clothing, black combat boots, and not to mention the quite large bag he had carried downstairs with him. They’d always seen the layered shirts, baggy jeans, and sneakers wardrobe, after all.

“Are you feeling alright, Stiles?” she asked, voice hesitant and concerned.

He barely spared her a glance, letting the bag drop with a large clatter. “Tired, feel like an eighteen wheeler ran me over thirty times last night, got tattoo-like markings along my back, chest, and neck, and my dad’s in the grasp of a vampire, one twisted fuck even for them. Your dad, Allison. Please,” he said, voice hard. Stiles opened the fridge to see the milk that he normally stashed in the door near empty. He clearly remembered having that mostly full when he left the night before. Closing his eyes, he took the carton out and waved it around a bit. “Who touched the milk?” he asked the room in general.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw quite a few flushed faces. Scott was, unsurprisingly, not one of them; his best friend/substitute brother had learned his lesson a long time ago. Allison and Lydia were both staring at him like he was crazy, before Allison left to call her dad leaving only Lydia to do that. The other teenage betas, however, were bright red.

‘ _Guilty._ ’

“Did you pups not notice what was written on it in nice, black, bold letters? The whole ‘hands off or you lose them’ message?” he asked, sounding like he was talking to children.

Erica piped up then. “Hey, we’re not pups!”

Stiles glowered at her. That would be what she would pick up on. “You’re a fairly recently turned werewolf, equating you to being a pup by their standards. I will refer to you all as pups if I want to. Even Scott gets called a puppy at times, and he’s the oldest in werewolf terms out of all you betas,” he snipped at her. “Now did you see the writing or not?”

None of the four met his eyes.

He sighed. “I take that as a no,” he grumbled, setting the milk back in the fridge. He’d finish it off later.

“Don’t worry, Stiles, that’s why I left for the store at this ungodly hour of the morning. Some people just don’t know how those on ADHD medicine get,” Peter said as he waltzed in, a half gallon of milk in each hand. Stiles only reached out and snagged one from the creeper-wolf’s fingers and marched past him. “You really should keep more than half gallons in the house when there are growing puppies nearby,” Peter called out teasingly. Although whether he was teasing Stiles or the group of four recently shamed teens was up for questioning.

He ignored the man in favor of snagging his black pen and writing the same message on the side of the half-gallon in his hand. **STILES’S MILK, HANDS OFF IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THEM**. He nodded before opening the carton and taking a large swig, reveling in the gags and unnaturally green faces from the pups as they realized what else they had gotten into. So he preferred to drink straight out of the carton, sue him.

Allison spoke up then. “Dad will be here in a few minutes. What’s going on?”

Stiles looked her way. “Well, what I was going to tell Danny and Scott last night after the meeting plays somewhat into this so I might as well just say that, too.” He capped the milk and set it on the counter before continuing. “There’s been a string of murders in the past week. None of the victims had any outward sign of struggle and were all bled dry.” He locked eyes with Scott, who was looking grim. “The next night, the victim’s bodies were no longer in the morgue.”

“What?”

Stiles jerked his head to look at Derek, who was at the bottom of the stairs being followed by Danny. Right, these werewolves had never dealt with vampire hives before. Oh this was going to be rough...

“Remember the vampire that I had mentioned earlier, Derek? He has an entire hive behind him, potentially a hundred or more drones, and they’re somewhere either in town or close by as we speak. The drones did those murders; they were killing to create more of them. Allison,” he turned his gaze back to her, “you and your dad are the only Hunters in town that I trust, besides my own blood over there with his sniper rifle.” Danny then set his rifle case onto the kitchen table. “We’re going to need non-supernatural help in taking down the hive, and that’s where you two come in.”

“Why can’t we help?” Jackson asked, eyes straying over to his best friend.

Stiles snorted. “Uh, pardon me here. I’m gonna be painfully blunt: can you keep yourself from shifting, use a blade and/or gun worth a damn, and do you know where on a vampire to hit? All at the same time? No? Then let us handle this,” he said before turning to Scott. “You, I have full body armor that should keep the drones away from your vital arteries and a charm to cover your scent. Already packed in your gear.”

Scott beamed before scampering over to the table.

Derek let out a growl. “What the hell are you even trying to do, Stiles? We can handle ourselves in a fight better than you can. Besides, you’re still—“

Stiles turned on him. “Injured from Grandpa Argent? Uh-uh, no I am not,” he spat out, getting into the Alpha’s face. “News flash: those were healed ages ago. Like, the second night after. The good thing about knowing how to use the spark I have. And I was purposefully holding back previously, because I promised Dad that I wouldn’t go back into hunting vamps after the last hunt a year ago, including training for it, until I was eighteen. Do you realize how difficult it was to keep how much the three of us knew a secret for so long?” he asked, voice bordering hysterics. Derek attempted intimidating him with a flash of red eyes and fangs, but Stiles brushed it off. “All that information I have and gave you guys, I basically had to cross reference all of it for accuracy’s sake. Besides, we’ve faced a hive before, one five times the size. Dozens of them, even. Just Scott, Danny, and me. With the two Argents and the three of us? This hive is a cakewalk in comparison.”

Derek shook his head. “Stiles, let us handle this.”

“No.”

Derek scowled. “Fine, at least prove to me that you can fight.”

“No idea if we have time to, Sourwolf.”

“Stiles—“

“No, Derek!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s _my father_ in there,” he shouted. “My _family_ , one of the only ones I have left, and he fucking gave himself up to let me have a semi-normal life! This is the least I can do for him! You out of everyone here should understand that simple fact!”

The kitchen was silent except for Stiles’s harsh breathing and Danny’s methodical movements as he constructed his rifle. It had been a while since he felt on the edge of tears like this, and most certainly the first time he had seen Derek at a loss for words. Why he considered Derek Alpha, or even himself as part of his pack, if this was all he got from finally telling the truth, Stiles didn’t know.

Maybe it was because Derek had been the only one to not lie to him, abandon him, or ignore him -that last one was a rather loose interpretation, at most, though.

Stiles took a deep breath before adding, “We’re not your pack, or your responsibility. This is what I’ve been trained to do, Derek. Now let me do it.” The hurt look on Derek’s face made Stiles swallow and question his own words, but there was no point; he had spoken the truth, and there was no going back on that. All he needed to do was build a wall of ice around that section of his mind, and he’d be fine. He turned his head away when the front door opened. In came Chris, who was looking very confused.

“Did I miss something?” he asked, somehow easing the tension in the room, but not between Stiles and Derek.

The teen rolled his neck, spared the Alpha one last, intentionally cold glance, before walking up to the Hunter. “I need help in finding and taking down a vampire hive. You in?” he asked calmly.

Chris gave him an odd look, but only asked, “Does it have to do with your father going missing?” Stiles nodded once. “I’m in. How many are we talking about and will we need back-up?”

Stiles took a deep breath and grinned on the exhale.

\- - -

 

**08:15 AM**

“There’s no way the five of us can take down a hive of around a hundred,” Chris said even as he drove the group to the last known location of Stiles’ father. The group consisted of: Stiles sitting in the passenger seat, Scott and Allison sitting in the far back, and Danny who had taken the middle seat with the equipment bags and his laptop, setting up the communications network for this operation. Rule number one in the Stilinski-Mahealani Hunter’s guide: never use the same communication network for different ops.

Stiles snorted, glancing over to Chris. “Oh, we can, easily. I’ve been helping Scott with his control on a daily basis, even with him so wrapped up in your daughter. I’m still sharp on my blade skills, though I was not supposed to be practicing with them. I trust both you and Allison to be sharp with your respective weapon sets. And I know that Danny hasn’t lost his touch; it’s not in his nature.” He shrugged. “Quit worrying.”

Chris shook his head, although whether that was at the Scott comment or at Stiles’ last words he couldn’t tell. “I’m shocked you’re not out of your mind with worry, kid.”

Ah. That was it, then.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and finding center. “Who said I’m not,” he simply stated as the SUV rolled to a stop. He did not wait for a reply; then again, he was not really expecting one. Instead, he hopped out of the SUV as soon as it was parked, slamming the door and walking up to the police tape. The cruiser was still sitting there at the curb across the road, the only thing wrong being the open driver’s side door. Like his dad had either left the car in a hurry, or had been dragged off before he could close it.

It seemed staged to him. Gut feeling, really. No actual proof behind it, yet.

Scott came up level with him, neither moving to cross the tape. “You thinking this was his own choice?” the beta asked, chocolate eyes glancing at Stiles.

The teen sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Possibly. I know the whole exchange-of-control part was his choice; had to be in order for it to work. Not too certain about the rest of it, though,” he said. God, he felt so _tired_. “Madison’s a manipulative little bitch like that.”

Danny bumped shoulders on Stiles’s other side. “Yeah, I remember the sleepless nights,” he said, grinning at the other teen. “Making sure you didn’t give in and such, or listening to you spill your guts about what happened and why you did it. If there wasn’t such competition for his head, I’d call the kill shot.” Danny glanced at Stiles from under his lashes, trying to be coy about it.

Stiles snorted. “I’ll cleave his head off his shoulders first.

Scott grinned. “I’d call the heart if I could shift in the armor. Still might do that.”

“And I cannot believe I just heard you three even say those words, especially you Scott,” Chris said as he came up behind them. “Now, are we tracking them or what?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You don’t have experience with vampires, do you Chris? One does not simply track a vampire,” he said dramatically, waving his hand in the Hunter’s general direction. “But seriously. We can have Scott try to scent for Dad, but I really doubt it’ll work. From the looks of things, this was a grab and bolt situation, no blood spilt, which means that it’s a slightly smarter drone than the others, if it’s even a drone. Possibly a younger vampire, about your age. Might even have been Madison himself.” He moved around the tape, still not crossing it, until he reached the sidewalk behind the car. “The location seems a bit off, though. Hives tend to be rather large, and while a nice abandoned warehouse with room to go underground would sound like an ideal location in reality it’s not, unless the windows and doors are boarded up tight and the building all but condemned. Hunters like Danny and me tend to memorize the layouts of all abandoned buildings in the cities and towns we visit and live in. More than likely, there was a car waiting for Dad here to pick him up and take him to the hive, which might be outside of any town borders.” Stiles stopped for a pause, tilting his head. He bore eyes into Danny. “Is it possible to search through Dad’s recent texts remotely?”

Danny scoffed. “Stiles, the fact that you even have to ask that is insulting,” he said as he turned back to the SUV. “You are so lucky that I have mobile Wi-Fi on my laptop.”

Stiles grinned sharply. “I know. Just get me those texts,” he said.

Danny gave him the single-finger salute.

He looked over at Scott, who nodded and said, “I’ll start trying to find the Sheriff’s scent.”

Stiles nodded once, looking to Allison. “Go with him, in case there’s a drone close by. Shot to the head will kill it easily enough.” He watched as the Huntress gulped reflexively but nodded anyways.

Stiles looked back to the scene in front of him, eyes scanning everything he could see from the vantage point he had taken. He could see his father’s pistol still sitting in the backseat, safety on and magazine resting next to it. He noted the angle at which the door was left open, not fully out but just enough to hint that his dad may have been dragged out to anyone not looking close enough at the scene like he was at that moment. That gut feeling that it had been staged came back. It was too clean, even for the vamps that they had gone after before. Stiles bit his bottom lip, worrying it as his eyes scanned over everything again, looking for the patterns that were hidden in front of him.

Chris joined him on the sidewalk as Scott and Allison moved off. “What’re you thinking, kid?” he asked.

Stiles sighed, letting his shoulders drop. He worried the inside of his bottom lip a bit more before answering. “It doesn’t feel right. Look: his gun has been safely disarmed and was calmly placed on the seat,” he said, pointing at the cruiser as he did. “If it was someone who had taken him at a different location, closer to the station, and then dropped the cruiser off here, it wouldn’t look like that. The gun also wouldn’t have been left behind at all, and if it had been it would not be in the backseat. Also, check the angle of the door.” He turned to Chris to make sure the elder Hunter was following him. “It’s not completely flung open, like someone who had just kidnapped someone else would leave it. Or like someone who was in the process of being kidnapped would. Instead, it’s at a more acute angle, as if the driver had calmly left the cruiser. On the surface, both of these would make it seem as if Dad had been complicit in his own disappearance, or that he was forced to do this at, say, gunpoint. But a kidnapper wouldn’t give their victim the time to set the scene like this.” Stiles gestured loosely to the police tape. “It doesn’t add up. The facts here don’t point to any one pattern of psychology that kidnappers have.”

Chris hummed, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one side. “What’s the pattern, then?” he asked.

Stiles groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “That’s why I asked for the texts. I’d have noticed and overheard if he had gotten a call last night, which means that if this was planned they contacted him through texts. It’s small in comparison, but still a piece of the puzzle.”

Chris shook his head, walking closer and settling his hands on Stiles’s shoulders. “That wasn’t what I asked, kid. You obviously have the thought processes down, and have the brain to handle something like this. What are the patterns here?”

Stiles looked up at him, amber eyes gazing into warn blues. So alike his father’s eyes. He took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it go. Mentally, he took a step back from the facts, built up a wall around his emotions. ‘ _What are the patterns? Come on, Glam, think._ ’

It took a few minutes, but eventually Stiles nodded. “Starts with the location,” he said. “Non-residential, mostly abandoned. Less of a chance for witnesses if the kidnapping happened here, which it most likely did. While there are several abandoned areas for Madison to pick, he chose the warehouse district to throw us off.” Chris nodded, removing his hands as the teen continued. “He is possibly thinking that any Hunter who realized that this was a vampire kidnapping, or anyone who actually would listen to me, would think that the hive is somewhere close by. However, he was not counting the fact that I have experience hunting vampires and know that it’s not where they tend to nest.” He turned his head to look at the cruiser.

“Next pattern is the gun. Safety on, magazine ejected, bullet that had been loaded set next to the handle. Shows care and thought for safety, also that whoever had put it there had enough time to go through the proper safety precautions but did not have enough patience, or had been too preoccupied with their thoughts, to put the bullet back in the magazine. In the backseat, behind the cage and doors that have a specific lock on them to prevent anyone from opening them without grasping a certain area of the handle, completely separate from the locking mechanism for the front seat. The police department had that installed just three weeks ago, Dad had to use my Jeep for a while during that time period. Dad had left the gun, but it was not his idea; he had been too swept up in his thoughts to reload the bullet into the magazine, probably did not even realize that he had gone through the safety precautions. Also, the placements: barrel facing the seat, magazine parallel to the barrel underneath it, bullet on the side closest to the edge. Professional, and set up like he would in that specific pistol’s case. The bullet was left there, a subconscious motion of his preoccupation. Dad thinks with the left side of his brain, dropping to the left shows the right brain picking up the slack in motions while the left side ran over the situation.

“Final pattern so far are the car doors. Driver’s side open to the first catch, all the others closed and locked. Dad never leaves the door open when he is outside the car, so right off the bat the psychology jars with that of the gun. Having it at the first catch is important, too, signals that the person was thinking clearly and was not in any mental rush. The only other part of the scene that fits Dad’s thought process is the locked doors; he has a thing for safety and always locks the car after himself.” Stiles took a deep breath, blinking as he did. “Someone else had left the door open as a tease, an invitation to come after them.”

He looked over to Chris, who was giving him an appraising look. Stiles flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, hiding his wince as it rubbed against the sensitive markings there. “Sorry. I tend to do that with this,” he said, giving a shy grin to the elder Hunter.

Chris blinked before shaking his head with a fond smile on his face. “It’s alright, kid. Just, a little shocking seeing you do that.” He flushed brighter, bringing a chuckle from Chris. “Come on, let’s regroup and see what Danny managed to scrounge up,” the elder Hunter said, slinging an arm around Stiles’s shoulders.

Scott and Allison joined them at the SUV, both wearing solemn faces. Stiles sighed, not needing them to say that they couldn’t find his dad’s scent. It played into the patterns.

\- - -

 

**08:45 AM**

Stiles managed to wait until the five of them were in the Argent’s “war room,” as Chris called the office, before busting out the question: “Danny, what did you get from Dad’s phone?"

His cousin grinned. “Well, dear cousin, while anything from the scene was a bit of a bust, we have a bit of a jackpot on this front. Not only were there two texts from a blocked number, but also Uncle’s phone is still on. I managed to trace its location,” Danny said, turning his computer to face Stiles at the end.

He all but lunged across the table to get at the computer. “Just outside the preserve, but still in the forest. Defensible positioning, far enough from pack territory to not alert any of the wolves but close enough to the town for the drones to feed when they wake up,” he mumbled, eyes flickering across the map on-screen. “Check the location for any abandoned buildings, and if there is one close by then we know that they hadn’t just tossed it there,” he ordered, leaning back to his side of the table.

Danny nodded, turning his computer back towards him and began typing furiously.

Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead as his eyes drifted shut. That tired feeling swept over him again, and he sagged against the table slightly. A hand was placed on his shoulder, drawing his focus to the person on that side. Scott was looking at him with those wide puppy eyes he had. “You okay?” he asked, voice soft. Stiles shook his head, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just lingering side effects of last night, more than likely.”

His best friend nodded before stiffening slightly, head swinging towards where Stiles knew the front door was. “Chris, Derek’s about to knock on the door. Peter and Lydia are with him,” he said.

Stiles groaned, letting his head slump down and rest against his forearms as he leaned more heavily against the table. Of course, the Hales would show up just as they were beginning to plan. “I am not letting any of them fight,” he grumbled.

Scott nudged him in the ribs gently. “If that’s why they’re here, think logically about it: two of the strongest werewolves in town on our side of the fight, and Lydia to help with the planning. They’d be a good addition, even if I don’t really trust either of them personally.”

He just grunted in return, mind still not changed. ‘ _The Hales would also get in my way and treat me like the weak human they think I had been. The only upside I see is Lydia and her genius mind,_ ’ he thought grumpily.

Voices filtered into the hallway, getting louder as Chris led the two Hales and Lydia into the war room. Stiles did not bother moving, letting his mind clear out before having to butt heads with Derek again. It was the one reason why he caught the sharp inhales by the door. “Whoever’s staring, please stop and get used to it,” he said in dry monotone. He was so _done_ with having to pretend to be what he was not.

Lydia took up residence on his right side, only saying, “Nice jeans, Stiles,” before getting to business. “So, we know that Sheriff Stilinski has been taken, in a very self-sacrificing Stilinski move, by a vampire. Where is their base? And why was he taken, again?”

Stiles shifted his weight slightly, absently stretching his calves. “Danny’s looking that up as we speak. Managed to track Dad’s phone to just outside of Hale Pack territory, in the forest outside the preserve. Cross-referencing the location with locations of abandoned buildings should take him about another minute,” he said, voice still that dry monotone. “I also wrote down my observations about the crime scene, it’s all in the notebook in front of me.”

Derek coughed slightly. “Stiles, if you could please not stand like that?” he asked, voice strained.

Stiles glanced up, eyebrow raised. He looked behind him, where the Alpha was standing with a flush on his ridiculous cheekbones. “You don’t dictate what I do, Hale. Don’t like the view, or like it too much, stand on the other side of the room. I ain’t moving,” he said firmly, going back to resting his head on his forearms in hopes of not seeing the _hurtembarrassedflushed_ look on Derek’s face. Peter chuckled somewhere off to his far right. Stiles sighed. “Peter, don’t you dare start right now. I am so not up for any badgering.”

“Oh, don’t mind me here. You’re so much like your mother, I just couldn’t help myself,” Peter said, voice light. Stiles glared his way, incredulous. Peter sighed. “Yes, Stiles, I knew your mother, was her best friend actually. She would stand just like that when she was overwhelmed, and the first time Jon found her like such she said just about the exact same thing to him.”

Stiles blinked, repeatedly. She what now? He huffed. “Still not up for your badgering,” he grumbled, pressing his forehead harder against his folded arms.

It was Lydia’s hum that broke their conversation. He turned his head towards her, signaling that she had his attention. “Interesting observations, Stiles. Most certainly not things that rookies would notice,” she said, setting his notebook down and looking at him like he was a new puzzle. “And your theories are sound.”

“They also coincide with the texts Uncle received,” Danny added, looking up from his computer screen. “Second text said for him to wait in the warehouse district, gun in the cage. No mention of the door, though, which means that it was the kidnapper’s idea to leave the door open.”

Lydia nodded, shifting her stance. “I still want to know how you got all of this from a few minutes looking at the scene, Stiles. Later,” she said, causing him to blanch. When Lydia Martin wanted information, there was no stopping her.

He was screwed.

Stiles cleared his throat, moving on to Lydia’s second question. “He was also taken in my place. The vampire had manipulated me into accepting the bond when I was ten, right after mom died. Let’s just say, he is a sick fuck who I would rather run through instead of let him keep my father for too long.” He swallowed thickly, glancing up to Scott who nodded his head once. Stiles took a deep breath before saying carefully, “Although I doubt that might happen, since Dad isn’t exactly in the right age range for Madison to be... interested in.” He burrowed his face into his forearms, not wanting to see the looks of curiosity or, worse, understanding and pity that might have been directed towards them.

Chris brought their attention back to the location and away from Stiles’s situation. It gave him time to breath. “Found something yet?” the Hunter asked.

Danny glanced up at him. “One possible location, a house five hundred feet from the phone’s location that's a few months from having to be torn down. Large enough to house any upper-level hive activities while also being the only building within fifty miles that has a basement bigger than a crawl space,” he said, continuing to type away. “I’m sending coordinates via e-mail now.”

Stiles and Scott’s phone bleeped, signaling the arrival of the coordinates. Stiles pulled out his phone and glanced at it. “All right, we can stop about a mile from the location and hike the rest of the way. Any place for you to camp, Dan?”

His cousin shook his head. “Would almost be no point. You guy’s head in, I can’t cover you. Windows are boarded up, except for one on the second level.”

Lydia spoke up, “You could handle anything coming out or in once they head inside.”

Stiles blinked, straightening up and giving her an appraising look. “Why didn’t we come to you a long time ago again?” he mused, not giving her time to answer. “That is better than some of our old plans. Okay, so Danny you find a nice tree to camp in, blades and bolts will move in and clean house, and then we get the hell out of there. Plan in place, let’s get the gear sorted and get ready to go.” He clapped his hands together and turned, aiming to leave the war room. And he would have, if Derek hadn’t been standing in the way.

“I’ll head in with you.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we covered this already, Hale. You’re not going anywhere near the hive.”

Derek glared at him. “As much as I do want to actually fight, and as much as I hate the idea, think of me as a distraction. It’d be easier for you to head in while they’re already distracted by something.”

Something in Stiles’s chest squeezed at that. “No,” he said. “No, no, no way, niet. You, Mr. Alpha-Wolf, are not heading in there, not even over my dead body, which would be what it would take because there is no way in my lifetime that you are risking your life and pack stability like that.”

“Stiles,” Scott said, grabbing Stiles’s arm.

He jerked his arm out of his friend’s hold. “No, let me explain this,” he said, pointing in Scott’s face. “You know the drone’s secrete venom when they bite their victim, right? Well, the venom affects werewolves differently. While it kills humans, it only slows your healing. Like, a lot. Slower than a normal humans.” Stiles turned to Derek. “You head in there and get bit, you’re screwed, worse than screwed actually, you might as well be dead before we get to you. And where would that leave your pack, eh? They’d be Alpha-less, free game for any Hunter to kill.”

Derek scowled at him. “I’ll be fine. Nothing like that will happen.”

Peter spoke up before Stiles could say anything. “Hey now, why not get my nephew the same armor that Scott has? That way, he still smells like a werewolf but has the same protection.”

Both Stiles and Derek turned to the creeper-wolf, a scowl on the elder man’s face while Stiles blinked. “Peter,” the werewolf growled. The teen could practically see the flash of red in Derek’s normally hazel orbs.

Peter chuckled. “Oh, nephew, considering I have not officially joined your pack you cannot Alpha wolf me into anything. Besides, I’m trying to make sure you don’t get hurt,” he said, his glee evident.

Allison said, “Actually, that sounds like a good idea.” Everyone’s eyes turned to her. She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t like the thought of using Derek like that,” she grinned at him, “since he’s gone through enough of that to last a lifetime. But having a distraction so that we can infiltrate and, as you put it Stiles, ‘clean house’ is a good idea.”

Stiles sighed, letting his chin rest against his chest. He wanted to resist the idea, but everyone else was already making sounds of agreement. With a glance at Derek, he turned back to the table. “Fine. But no Alpha shifts; the armor will restrict your Beta form as it is,” he said, resigned to the knowledge that his biggest crush since Lydia would be going into the hive of the vampire that had held Stiles for three years.

It wasn’t going to end well.

\- - -

 

**09:23 AM**

And it would be his luck that, mere minutes after they had gotten the plan sorted out, that Chris would ask to see an example of what all Stiles can do with the assortment of blades that he had in his duffle bag. Stiles was currently giving the elder Hunter his patented “are you fucking crazy” look, utterly baffled that it took this situation to get him to ask that question. He hadn’t really hid anything from Chris; he should have known that there were vampire Hunters in town when he moved in, right? Peter stepped up to take the heat off of Chris.

“Well, Stiles, it makes sense that we see what, exactly, your capabilities are to make sure that everyone knows everyone else’s capabilities before going in. It is only fair, after all, since you know our strengths but we don’t know yours,” he rationalized and, yeah, fuck, Stiles could see the creeper-wolf’s point.

He growled, low and guttural in his throat. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just to make sure we’re all on the same page,” Stiles said, snagging his bag and shouldering his way towards the backyard. He had some aggression to burn, anyways, and he could treat this as his missed work out. “Which one of you wants to get their ass handed to you?” was all he threw over his shoulder before exiting the house. Stiles tossed the duffle to the ground before pulling his shirt off over his head. Wearing all black in the beginning of summer was not exactly conducive towards what they were planning on doing at that moment, so the shirt had to go. Closing his eyes, Stiles took a deep breath and began to stretch out his muscles. The back door opened behind him, but he gave it little to no thought as he moved through his routine stretches. His muscles sang, rejoicing in the stretch that they had missed out on just two hours previous. He fell into his normal routine, practicing his different moves and sequences with a slow, calculated ease, feeling how each muscle shifted and worked with each move. He began to pick up speed, slowly at first, bumping up the pace until the one thing that stopped him was someone attempting to tackle him to the ground from behind.

Big mistake.

His eyes flashed open, and he grasped a hold of the person, twisting so that he used both of their momentums to flip them over his hip. Stiles settled over them, forearm pressed into the spot where jaw met the neckline, before he realized whom exactly it was that tried to stop him.

Derek. Of fucking course.

He looked up towards the crowd at the back door, specifically at Scott. “Please tell me you at least tried to keep the Sourwolf from nearly tackling me into the dirt,” he said as he lithely stood from his position. Stiles made no move to help Derek to stand, not like the other man had ever given him one before anyways. Instead, he stalked over to where his bag was and pulled out his two practice daggers. “I kind of couldn’t do this earlier this morning, what with everything that’s happened today,” he continued, flipping the wooden blades like it was nothing.

Scott snorted. “Like it would have made a difference if I tried to stop him. Alpha werewolf to my Omega, remember?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “How can I forget?” he mumbled, just barely on the edge of werewolf hearing. He looked back to Derek, who was just standing from his meeting with the ground. “Well, since you so kindly threw yourself into this, Hale, I guess I’m just going to have to use you as a sparring partner. Save Danny the bruises, and Scott the embarrassment.” His grin was sharp as he tilted his head, wooden blades tight in his hands.

Derek’s stance became wary, more defensive than Stiles had ever seen him outside of a life-or-death situation. “I doubt that you’re going to do that,” he said even though his voice was uncertain.

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. “Then you don’t know me all that well, do you, Hale?” he asked, loosening his wrists.

His head ticked to the side once before he moved into action. He feinted right before lunging straight towards the werewolf. His right hand dagger was trapped as he made an obvious move for Derek’s left side. The werewolf attempted a swing of his fist -no claws extended, Stiles couldn’t help but notice- but Stiles had seen it coming a mile away. He bent backwards, dodging the arm and using the older man’s shock to get his arm loose from the hold. Twisting, Stiles aimed for the unprotected side with his left dagger, tapping the rib cage harder than he probably had to before jumping away.

Derek nearly tripped as he overbalanced, his back partially turned to Stiles. It was a bad move, and from the low noise that the werewolf gave he knew it immediately.

The teen exploited this to his full advantage and tapped him two more times on his back and neck before the werewolf could counter. Another sweep, this time with an extended leg, came as a response, to which Stiles merely jumped over and tapped his forehead. “Dead four times over, Hale,” he said teasingly, nimbly dodging out of the werewolf’s hitting range.

Derek growled, lunging at him. Stiles dropped his daggers and blocked swing after swing, sneaking in his hits when he had an opening and dancing away afterwards. But no matter how much the teen taunted him, toyed with him, and once literally cartwheeled around him, Derek didn’t loose his goddamned control.

It was Stiles’s turn to growl this time. “Try to fucking kill me, Hale,” he ground out, tumble-rolling away from the last skirmish towards his daggers. He spun around, wood smacking into Derek’s ribs hard enough to fracture them. The wolf howled, but Stiles didn’t give him a chance to back off. He wanted Derek to actually fight him like he would one of his Betas, because Stiles won’t break. He can’t break, not anymore than he already has been. So he kept up the assault, mind blanking out that this was the man who he had a crush on for six months and going into survival mode. Slash, jab, dodge attack, skip away, and repeat, until finally Derek broke.

Stiles had never really seen the other’s Alpha form before, and now he was kind of glad that he hadn’t. It was a little harder dodging the bulky black form he was attacking ruthlessly, and he had to move faster than before because despite that bulk the Alpha form was _fast_. He was grinning like a maniac as he danced around the black shadow he was sparring. Why hadn’t he ever done this before? This was exhilarating, knowing that one false step, one missed dodge, would mean that his skin was going to be torn to shreds.

The spar did not end until Stiles -and don’t ask him how he managed this because he was hyped up on adrenaline- pinned the Alpha beneath him, daggers crossing over his neck and voice growling out, “Yield.”

The truly scary thing was that Derek then shifted back and bared more of his throat.

Stiles panted harshly, staring down into hazel eyes as they looked at him with complete trust in their depths. A jolt of guilt spliced through his gut, knowing that he did not deserve that trust, that he had hurt this man and still held that one damn thing that the Alpha never gave _anyone_ because it was always exploited and broken. He had to look away, pushing himself off the man and just stumbled over to his bag.

Scott, whom he could assume was the one reason why the spar had continued after Derek fully shifted, ran over to his side with Danny and Chris not far behind. “Dude, you okay?” he asked, eyes raking over Stiles’s body.

The teen could only roll his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “No injuries, and nothing a cool down stretch can’t handle.” Stiles dropped his wooden daggers into the bag and walked a little ways away to do just that, ignoring the feeling of those hazel eyes pinned to his back.

Chris spoke up. “I must admit, I am kind of glad that you’re on our side.”

Before Stiles got into his stretches, he looked at Chris with a blank face and asked, “Who said I was ever on anyone’s side but my family’s?”

The looks he got in return were ones of fear and wary respect.

\- - -

 

**09:56 PM**

They waited until dusk started falling before heading out to the location. Stiles was in the passenger seat again, staring out the window as he absently adjusted the slender armor protecting his outer forearms. He didn’t focus on any specific thing, humming a song under his breath. It was an unconscious thing, really, a habit that his mother had done on occasion that he had picked up on early in his life. Helped center him, better than any meditation or medication could have. He was all but buzzing in his seat, and the humming gave him an outlet to release some of that energy without being detrimental to the operation.

He glanced into the rearview mirrors, looking over the group. Allison was helping Scott adjust the full body armor suit he had to wear and the sheathes for his blades in the far back. Danny was loading his magazines, throwing knives already strapped on and looking rather impressive in the all black clothing and leather jacket that all the other humans had decided on wearing -except for Stiles, he knew his leathers would restrict his movement. Easier to blend into the shadows, which was an advantage that the drones would not expect them to exploit. Derek was the only one that didn’t look calm. In fact, he seemed to be coiled in on himself, uncomfortable in his own skin. Might have just been the tight armor suit that he had to wear; Stiles was not joking when he said that it would restrict his Beta form. Damn things were tight.

Stiles shared a look with Chris before turning to face the others. “All right, Hale,” he managed to get the Alpha’s attention, “I’ll be giving you a charm like the one Scott has; it’ll cover your scent. Try to sneak inside the building and then take it off. If you can’t Danny will cover you as much as he can.” Derek nodded, returning to whatever thoughts were swirling around in his head. Stiles sighed, looking to the other teens. “We all know what we’re each doing? Yes? Good.” He turned back to the front as the SUV pulled to a stop. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

He hopped out, closing the door as quietly as he could. Glaring down at his belt, he started readjusting the blades there. Difficult to sit down with throwing knives, daggers, and tanto’s strapped just about everywhere.  Stiles looked up when Derek stepped just a little closer than he normally would have. The Alpha’s eyes wouldn’t connect with his. Stiles rolled his eyes. Reaching under the high collar of his shirt, he pulled out the charm he had made for Derek. In one swift motion that left the older man blinking, Stiles looped it over Derek’s head and let it drop onto his chest. The charm itself looked like the necklace Aragorn was given in one of the Lord of the Rings movies, something that Stiles attempted to ignore as he turned to face the rest of the group.

Scott was just shoving his charm underneath the collar of his armor, sniffing at the air. “Jeez, that charm works,” he said, eyes going wide and focusing on Derek. “Its like you’re not even there, dude.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That’s the point, doofus,” he grumbled.

Allison was grinning. “Hey, at least we know it works,” she said.

Stiles and Derek lifted their eyebrows in unison. “Uh, Allie, I know I hadn’t told you, but I’ve tested this trick before with Mr. Potato-Head right there,” Stiles said, pointing at Scott. “It took him seven hours to find me, and that was because I had texted him to call it quits.”

Scott pouted. “And you were on the roof the entire time.”

“Hey, I actually got some schoolwork done, while testing something supernatural that wound up being useful later on. Win-win situation.” Stiles grinned, turning away. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover and we’re gonna be moving by moonlight. Not much for you werewolves, but still tricky for us humans.”

The others nodded and began following Danny, who had a GPS location device in hand with the directions. A hand caught Stiles on the upper arm, and when he turned to look at who had grabbed him its pair cupped his jaw, drawing him in. Soft lips surrounded by coarse stubble pressed against his, just resting there. Stiles blinked as his brain caught up with the situation, unconsciously leaning into the contact.

By the time it hit him, Derek had let him go and was moving on to the others, shoulders once again square and held tightly. Stiles stared after him for a second, shocked at the occurrence. Derek had just... he had just kissed him? Even after the thrashing he gave him earlier?!

Strange things happening that day, it seemed.

\- - -

 

**10:37 PM**

By the time they reached the house, Stiles was glad that he’d worn his comfy combat boots, and that Derek sort of knew the terrain. The trek had been worse that he had thought, but luckily none of them were really worn out by it. A water bottle was passed around while they were moving, so everyone was hydrated, and since they had pre-medicated -at least, the humans had- there were no muscle aches to worry about. All in all, it was a good start to a hunt; minimal issues, everyone knew the plan, and there would be no witnesses, which meant no innocents to get in the way.

And so far, Stiles was doing a bang-up job about pushing the kiss to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry about.

Stiles slowly moved between the trees close to the very run down house, looking for a good angle for Danny to camp at. It took a few minutes before they both agreed on a tree that was both tall enough to give him a buffer zone from the drones and the appropriate angle, and support that Danny would need. Scott and Stiles both helped heft his cousin up onto the sturdiest low-lying branch. Stiles could not help but watch as the sniper spider-monkeyed his way up the tree to the level he wanted.

They all waited until Danny’s thumbs up before moving into action. Derek faded into the night, presumably headed towards the front entrance. Scott and Allison went to the other side of the building so they could enter there, while Stiles and Chris waited where they were. The teen had already spotted where he wanted to enter from: a crack in the wall big enough for both of the humans to fit through.

“Got eyes on Madison,” Danny whispered into his headset. Stiles cocked his head. “The target is not in sight. Holding fire,” the sniper continued.

A piercing howl broke through the relative silence, signaling that Derek had been caught. Stiles gritted his teeth before leading the way to the crack in the wall, unsheathing a handful of throwing knives. He _knew_ something like this would happen.

The two humans slid between the crack and into the innards of the hive. Stiles kept his eyes on the shadows, not wanting to be jumped by a drone. As they moved further into the hive, closer to where the sounds of fighting were coming from, a few drones spotted Chris because he was not fully behind a support structure. All three turned to charge what they believed to be an easy prey, only to fall with a throwing knife in their skulls. Chris glanced towards Stiles, who had a cold expression on his face as if he had thrown knives with that level of speed and accuracy before. Which, he had.

Stiles led the way towards the foyer, palming another two handfuls of throwing knives. If he knew drone tactics correctly, they’d be trying to overwhelm Derek right at that moment. He gritted his teeth; this was why he didn’t want the Alpha to go in with them.

He entered the foyer and started throwing knives at the drones, garnering their attention. Eight fell, knives stuck in their heads, before the tide turned towards him. Two got bolts through the eyes before they reached Stiles, and another fell from one of the daggers that Stiles had unsheathed. He hacked, sliced, and jabbed his way through five drones that tried to overwhelm him, almost becoming a whirlwind of blades as he did. A jaw attempted to lock around his marked side, but before pressure could be applied Stiles twisted and chopped the head off. Black blood spewed out of the stump, painting his exposed skin.

Slowly, he made for the center of the foyer, where Derek was being mobbed. The Alpha was in his Beta form, teeth bared in a permanent snarl and claws dripping black. Stiles slashed a drone from ear to ear from behind before it could jump on Derek’s back. He quickly sheathed a dagger, pulled a throwing knife, and slung it into another drone’s eye socket. Human and werewolf shared a quick look before standing back to back, fighting off the oncoming mob as a singular unit.

The tide changed again as another set of blades entered the foyer, Scott utilizing his special type of flourishes to gain attention and carve through the mob at the same time. Arrows and bolts started flying, and Stiles grinned sharply. A tanto wound up jammed under a drone’s jaw, abandoned as both daggers were brought out again. Stiles ducked under a swinging arm, jabbing the artery in the armpit before sliding up and slitting the throat.

The floor was slick with black blood when Derek cried out in pain. Stiles instinctively swung around, ducking under the injured werewolf to impale the drone who had clawed through the armor. Scott slid behind Derek before another drone could get a hit in, Stiles protecting the front.

“Madison’s leaving the room. I’ve lost contact,” Danny said, voice tinny in the headset. Stiles gritted his teeth, blocking a swing with his forearm as he dug a dagger through the drone’s nose.

“Cover the entrance, Danny, just cover the entrance,” Stiles ground out. Another cry of pain from Derek brought Stiles to turn around and cleave the head locked around the werewolf’s arm off its body. “Damn, Hale got bit. Allie, cover us from the sky. Chris,” Stiles swung an arm, gashing another drone moving towards the injured werewolf, “drop the crossbow and get down here with some knives.”

“I can keep fighting,” Derek growled from where he was on the ground.

Stiles couldn’t spare the time to glare. “No you can’t, you’ve got their damn venom in you.” He spun to the right as Chris slid into the space on the left. “Now stay down!” Just to emphasize his point, Stiles chucked the dagger in his fist and hit a drone square in the forehead.

He dragged another tanto out of its sheath, blade serrated instead of the traditional straight edge. He kept going, making sure not another drone got close to the bleeding werewolf behind him. Scott took up the slack to his right, and the two made an impenetrable wall of blades on their sides. Drone corpses laid at their feet, blood slick beneath their feet. Chris was a little slower, but no less ferocious with his knife work. Any slack on his side was picked up by Allison, wherever her vantage point was; arrows sprouted out of the backs of drones’ heads left and right. Stiles was glad that he had told her to bring five full quivers of arrows; they were going to need all the help they could get aerially.

Right as the last drone in the foyer was cut down, Stiles looked up the staircase and froze.

There stood Madison, holding a knife to his dad’s throat, which was looking mangled as it was from all the bite wounds on it. The one good thing that Stiles could see was that his dad was still wearing his uniform. Blue eyes connected with Stiles’ ambers and widened in hazy recognition, and he had to hold back a whimper. Something feral was unfurling in his chest as Madison grinned in triumph.

“Glamdring, so nice to see you again,” the vampire said conversationally, as if he wasn’t holding the one person that Stiles would die for by knifepoint. “Granted, slaughtering my hive was not a very polite thing to do. I thought I had taught you better manners than that.”

Stiles grimaced, not moving from the defensive position he was in over Derek, his only blade held tight in his right hand. “Yeah, well, it’s my job to take out vamps like you,” he replied.

Madison laughed, dragging the knife playfully against his dad’s neck. “Your job? My, Glamdring, you have been busy while on your own. And gained quite the tongue outside of my tender care.” His smile turned into a scowl. “Not too sure I’m impressed.”

“It’s my charm, a family trait really,” he said drily. “Now let him go.”

The vampire hummed, dipping his head closer to one of the bite marks on the neck before him. Red eyes met Stiles’s ambers as a tongue sneaked out and licked the blood there. “No.”

An arrow notched into the floor next to Madison’s foot. As he peered down at it, Stiles said, “It wasn’t a request, Madison. Let my father go.” Scott stepped up next to him, though Stiles noticed he was still partially behind him, swords drawn and held towards the front. Stiles heard Chris shift further back, possibly having changed back to his crossbow, and a growl slipped out from the downed Alpha behind him.

Madison gazed at Stiles, red eyes calculating. He pushed Stiles’s dad to the side and into a wall, hard enough that Stiles could tell that he had been knocked unconscious by the action and the way he slumped to the floor afterwards, holding the knife down by his side. “Even if I release him, the bond will bring him back to me,” the vampire said, stained red lips curling into a smirk. “Although if he fights as much as you did, I might just enjoy the challenge.”

“I have a visual,” Danny whispered into the headset. “Slat in the upper foyer window. Holding fire until I get a better shot.”

Stiles made sure not to show that he heard Danny, glaring up at Madison. “I take it from the state of Dad’s clothes that you didn’t touch him?” he asked, venom in his voice. He needed to buy time, get Madison to give him a real reason to kill him. Rule number five in the handbook. He could feel the looks from the two behind him, but he needed to know.

Madison laughed. “Oh, Glamdring. Worried I had soiled him?” he asked, a shark-like grin on his face. “You shouldn’t have; he is a bit too old for me.”

Stiles growled, palming a throwing knife at his belt. “Right, I forgot; you prefer to soil little boys,” he sneered, using his voice to cover the scratch of the knife being unsheathed.

Madison shrugged. “Guilty as charged. Although your friend standing next to you might be a good play toy as well, despite his age.”

‘ _Bingo._ ’

He didn’t give the vampire a chance to say anything more. In one smooth motion, Stiles flung the knife up at Madison. It lodged inside the vampire’s chest mere seconds before a bullet exploded between his eyes. The teen clenched his jaw as he watched the vampire fall to his knees before slumping forwards.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles turned to Scott. “Patch Hale up as much as you can, we’ll get Deaton to fix up the rest,” he said quietly. “Danny, get down here and help the Argents gather weapons. I’m gonna check up on Dad.” He didn’t wait for an answer, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached where his dad had fallen. Sheathing the lone dagger he had left, Stiles reached for his dad’s face. “Dad?” he asked, voice choked. Blue eyes fluttered open even as black markings appeared on unnaturally pale skin. Stiles sighed, resting his forehead against his dad’s.

A hand sluggishly lifted and landed on Stiles’s head. “Son...” Jon whispered, eyes flitting closed again.

\- - -

 

**June 15, 2011, 02:34 AM**

Stiles closed Jon’s door with a sigh, sagging against it. His spark was sputtering, having had to pour everything into healing the man who was currently curled up asleep in the room behind him, and from keeping Derek from bleeding out on the ride back. He added asking Deaton for a concoction to restore his magic to the list of things he needed to go back to the vet’s office for -they simply had no time when the group had gotten there earlier so the vet could patch Derek up- and a shower onto the list for him to do before even contemplating sleeping for the night.

Someone cleared his or her throat in front of him. Stiles opened his eyes and groaned when he saw the four Hale Beta’s. Erica was at the front, hands on her hips. “Listen, all right, Deaton said explicitly that you can’t bother Hale just yet. He’s still healing,” Stiles said preemptively, knowing that it would have something to do with the upcoming conversation.

“And who’s fault was that?” Erica asked.

Stiles looked at her in confusion. “Excuse me?” he asked, voice low. ‘ _Bitch did not just go there._ ’

Erica shrugged, throwing her blonde locks over her shoulder. “Derek wouldn’t have been injured in the first place if you hadn’t brought him along,” she explained. “Besides, I thought you weren’t pack.” Isaac and Boyd nodded their agreement to her statement. Jackson just crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall, obviously uncomfortable about the confrontation.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “So it’s my fault that your Alpha asked to be used as a distraction, therefore my fault that drones clawed and bit their way through the full body armor suit he was wearing? And I feel like I should mention that Beacon Hills is still his territory, I couldn’t exactly fully stop him from wanting to protect that.” His voice remained dangerously low, and drier than even Derek had managed before, as he let the door support his weight and crossed his arms tightly in front of him.

Erica snorted. “Yeah right. He wouldn’t willingly ask to be used like that, so of course it’s your fault.”

Stiles closed his eyes before looking up at the ceiling. “Let me see here: you weren’t in the room when we had that conversation, nor were you anywhere close by to hear it because Scott would have said something, so you don’t know for certain. There are witnesses that could, and willingly would if asked, testify that Hale had, in fact, all but demanded to be used as a distraction. The one reason why I even let that happen was because I was the minority decision and would not have won in the first place. And even though I fought tooth and nail to make sure that he wasn’t injured any more than he had been, this is the thanks his pack gives me.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds like back when I was just the human researcher, saving all of your ass’s without a single positive word thrown my way.”

Isaac growled, letting his claws out. “Maybe because you aren’t worth those words,” he spat out. “Maybe you should have just stayed with that damn vampire in the first place and stayed out of the way.”

The human froze, hands clutching his upper arms so hard he was shocked he wasn’t bruising. Fire spread through his veins, and that feral something unfurled in his chest again. Stiles snarled in Isaac’s direction, noting how all four of them flinched. “And how would you know what _I_ should have done? Have you been controlled by a vampire before?” he asked, not giving them time to answer. “You suggested that I should have stayed with a _child rapist_ who manipulated me into accepting the bond because my mom had just died. You don’t know _anything_ about what I have gone through. The only kind words I have heard since I _fought out of his control_ four years ago have come from Scott, Danny, and my father.” He pushed off the wall and stalked closer to Isaac. “You don’t think I would need to hear those words I’m ‘not worthy of’ after all that?” he hissed out, glaring right into shocked eyes. Stiles noted that Isaac had taken a step back and bared a part of his neck. He looked over at Erica and Boyd, who both had taken steps back and were doing the same as Isaac. Jackson was the only one who did not move, just calmly lifting his head when Stiles looked at him. Closing his eyes, Stiles took a deep breath and stepped back. “Just, let Hale rest for a couple days, until the venom wears off,” he said, turning to walk away.

Jackson spoke up, “Stilinski.” Stiles stopped to let the blonde speak. “Might want to talk to Deaton about those reds you just flashed.”

He glanced back at Jackson, shock filtering in. His eyes had flashed red?

The Beta lifted an eyebrow. “And maybe take a shower,” Jackson added. “You stink worse than the others.”

Stiles snorted. “Well, I did have the most drone blood on me. Was planning on that anyways,” he quipped, continuing on in the direction he was moving, ducking into his room to get a change of clothes. Maybe that shower would give him time to process things better.

\- - -

 

**02:59 AM**

The vampire watched on as the teenage Hunter moved through his home, red eyes transfixed on the lanky form as he tossed the wet towel onto his bed. Pale skin was decorated with the black markings making him a supernatural former bonded, impossible to be controlled or changed by another supernatural being again in his life. Auburn hair was spiked at random from having run the towel through it. He slid back into the shadows as the boy moved towards his window, those golden eyes scanning the surroundings professionally. He scowled. This boy killed the strongest hive in the region with three humans and two of those dirty wolves behind him? Snarling, his eyes narrowed, sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight.

He would make this boy burn.


End file.
